All writers must face the page alone—or so I thought. Then I began writing my debut memoir, Good Girl, in the winter of 2013. I soon realized that even on my darkest days (or especially on my darkest days) I wasn’t quite going it solo. Although this was my first nonfiction book, I’d already ghostwritten eight titles, including Hooking Up with Tila Tequila: A Guide to Love, Fame, Happiness, Success, and Being the Life of the Party, with Tila Tequila, and Killing Willis: From ‘Diff’rent Strokes’ to the Mean Streets to the Life I Always Wanted, with Todd Bridges.
But what could my celebrity clients teach me about the story of my strained relationship with my taxi-driving, wannabe-mystic father? Everything. Helping them tell their stories had shown me so much about telling my own. Here are three lessons about the complexities of being a memoirist that I learned from ghostwriting.
1. You have something to say.
It can be difficult to believe your story deserves to be heard. Even celebrities who have a million followers on social media and have shaped pop culture may face blowback for writing a book. But they’re still interesting enough to warrant a memoir. When I worked with my first client, Tila Tequila, I knew she would definitely have some detractors. I’m a big believer in anticipating the worst thing critics might say and beating them to it, so Tila and I opened her book by calling out our readers. The sentiment of our opening salvo was “You didn’t think I could write a book, did you?” In fact, Tila had a number of insightful observations on dating men, and women, which impressed both our editor and me. Maybe she wasn’t a licensed relationship therapist, but she had the experience and outlook to shape opinions that were helpful to many. And she owned it. I tried to adopt some of this same playful assertiveness when approaching my own book, in order to reassure myself that I had a perspective worth sharing.
2. It will be hard, but there’s no reason to feel ashamed.
My second cowriting job was for the child star Todd Bridges, who was perhaps equally well known for his role as Willis on the 1980s sitcom Diff’rent Strokes as he was for his many brushes with the law as a drug addict and dealer. Although Todd had felt the need to keep many dark secrets during his years in the spotlight, as we worked on his book, he dared to be open about having been emotionally abused by his father and molested by his publicist. While talking about these difficult topics, he sometimes broke down. I could see how much he still had to process, even about events that had happened decades earlier. Not only did he share his truth in his book, but he also went on Oprah and read the passage detailing his abuse through tears. Although I had less-severe trauma to make peace with in my own life, I had felt shame, about having been rejected by my father, and some of the self-destructive behavior I’d taken on in my 20s. Seeing Todd display such dignity—and in the most public of forums—made me understand that I, too, could take ownership of my past and choose not to feel ashamed. Instead, I could find something positive by focusing on telling my story, and hopefully, helping people.
3. You are responsible for your story, not other people’s reaction to it.
Sometimes I edit books for clients who are talented writers but need help with structure and organization. But when I worked with Jennie Ketcham on her debut memoir, I Am Jennie, which documented her life in and out of porn, she didn’t call me her editor; she called me her Sherpa. It was an honor to serve this role for Jennie, because I witnessed how mindful she was of approaching everyone in her life with the utmost humility and forgiveness. She dug deep, even when it caused her great discomfort, not only to get her story right, but also to learn as much as she possibly could through her writing process. And then, after we had documented everything—the addiction, the mistakes, and the eventual redemption—she let it go. She didn’t worry about defending herself or changing anyone’s mind about anything she had or hadn’t done in her life. I remembered this when I turned the magnifying glass on my own experience, and I strove for this level of transparency and grace.
Sarah Tomlinson is a ghostwriter and the author of the father-daughter memoir Good Girl.
